“We did know something of him,” said the
admiral, “a little while ago; but he’s
taken himself off. Don’t you do so likewise.
If you’ve got anything to say, stop and say
it, like an Englishman.”

“Stuff! stuff!” said Mortimer, impatiently.
“What do you all want here?”

“Why, Sir Francis Varney,” said Henry,—­“and
I care not if the whole world heard it—­is
the persecutor of my family.”

“How? in what way?”

“He has the reputation of a vampyre; he has
hunted me and mine from house and home.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes,” cried Dr. Chillingworth; “and,
by some means or another, he seems determined to get
possession of Bannerworth Hall.”

“Well, gentlemen,” said Mortimer, “I
promise you that I will inquire into this. Mr.
Chillingworth, I did not expect to meet you. Perhaps
the least we say to each other is, after all, the
better.”

“Let me ask but one question,” said Dr.
Chillingworth, imploringly.

“Ask it.”

“Did he live after—­”

“Hush! he did.”

“You always told me to the contrary.”

“Yes; I had an object; the game is up.
Farewell; and, gentlemen, as I am making my exit,
let me do so with a sentiment:—­Society at
large is divided into two great classes.”

“And what may they be?” said the admiral.

“Those who have been hanged, and those who have
not. Adieu!”

He turned and left the room; and Mr. Chillingworth
sunk into a chair, and said, in a low voice,—­

“It’s uncommonly true; and I’ve
found out an acquaintance among the former.”

“-D—­n it! you seem all mad,”
said the admiral. “I can’t make out
what you are about. How came you here, Mr. Henry
Bannerworth?”

“By mere accident I heard,” said Henry,
“that you were keeping watch and ward in the
Hall. Admiral, it was cruel, and not well done
of you, to attempt such an enterprise without acquainting
me with it. Did you suppose for a moment that
I, who had the greatest interest in this affair, would
have shrunk from danger, if danger there be; or lacked
perseverance, if that quality were necessary in carrying
out any plan by which the safety and honour of my
family might be preserved?”

“Nay, now, my young friend,” said Mr.
Chillingworth.

“Nay, sir; but I take it ill that I should have
been kept out of this affair; and it should have been
sedulously, as it were, kept a secret from me.”

“Let him go on as he likes,” said the
admiral; “boys will be boys. After all,
you know, doctor, it’s my affair, and not yours.
Let him say what he likes; where’s the odds?
It’s of no consequence.”